Clarissa and Jonathon
by fireheartmatilda
Summary: Clarissa and Jonathan were both raised by their father, Valentine. In this world, they are all the other has. they have done so many awful things for their father, but what choice did they have? They're together. He could take that away.
1. Chapter 1

Clarissa and Jonathon stood before their father, their expressions schooled into the emotionless mask they had been trained to wear. Clarissa kept her head held high as she waited for his orders. Their father simply paced in front of them, eyeing them carefully, and Clarissa felt her heart begin to quicken. Something was going to happen; something different to normal. Beside her, she felt Jonathon stiffen and she knew he felt it too. Something had changed today. The siblings had been living with their father since they were babies, after their mother had left them, abandoned them. He insisted that he was all they had left in this world. And they believed him. He was their father, even if the things he made them do were…Clarissa tried not to think of it. They had spent their whole lives training, and learning and being sent out of missions. Killing demons, killing downworlders. She knew it was wrong, had protested. So had Jonathon. But Valentine knew exactly what it took to get them to submit, to stay loyal. The one thing that each of them had in this world, that they held above all else. Each other. And it was hardly as though they could run away. Who would accept them after what they had done? What he had made them do. And so, they became his soldiers, his most loyal followers, and they did as he wanted. This time would be no different.

"What is it that you want, father?" Clarissa spoke quietly, but with strength, so as not to anger him. They couldn't be weak in front of him. Or ever, for that matter. He looked to her, a hunger in his eyes, for something. His eyes darted between her and Jonathon as he spoke, his posture proud, his chin held high. They were Morgensterns. They had standards in this house. She knew that all too well.

"I have a task for you children." He grinned, with all the brutality that they had been taught, and Clarissa couldn't help but be excited for what was to come. "Tomorrow, you are going to come with me whilst we complete what our true mission has been all these years. We are going to make a wish on the angel." Clarissa pursed her lips to stop the gasp of shock that almost came out, her eyes widening at her father made his revelation. Jonathon couldn't restrain himself.

"What in the Angel?" He exclaimed, looking as if someone had just hit him in the face. Valentine's expression flashed to one of anger in a split second, as he roughly grabbed Jonathon's chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling his face close to his own.

"Are you questioning me, son?" He spat into Jonathon's face, and it was all Clarissa could do to stop from wrestling him off her brother. Jonathon quickly changed his expression to one of complacency, but Valentine wasn't satisfied. He stepped away from them, turning his back, but neither of them relaxed. And they were right not to. Seconds later, Valentine spun around, striking Clarissa with the back of his hand, as she let out a sharp hiss. She was sure his nail had drawn blood, but turned back, refusing to let anything show, though she could feel Jonathon clenching his fists beside her. She didn't even look at him, keeping her eyes forwards. They were well practised at this, him using them against each other. Besides her, Jonathon relaxed two, though Valentine's finger was in his face. "Watch your insolence, boy." Jonathon gave a curt nod, not speaking again, and Valentine breathed out, letting the calm mask settle back in and resting on the edge of the desk, watching them both. "Meet me in the lobby in the morning, and we'll portal to Lake Lynn." That was all the dismissal they needed, and the siblings filed out, staying silent as they moved through the Morgenstern manor.

The three of them had lived here for years since Clarissa was only 3 years old. Valentine had performed a series of actions that meant it was impossible for him to stay in Idris any longer, and it was better for them to live where the Clave couldn't find them. It was a large place, off the coast of Norway somewhere, where they lived and trained and only left for missions. The revolutionary, the pure angel-blooded child, and the pure demon-blooded child. Clarissa moved towards the large staircase that led to the upper rooms, the place that her and Jonathon's rooms were. The only place they had any privacy. Valentine liked to stay in the room on the ground floor, beside his study and laboratory, and Clarissa and Jonathon couldn't be happier for them. As she climbed the first steps, she didn't look down the steps that led to the dungeons below. Both she and Jonathon had spent enough time there as children, and listening to the other's screams. Stepping into Jonathon's room, Clarissa moved immediately to the fake wall on the other side of the room, pushing it open gently and edging her way into the small room that lay on the other side. Jonathon and Clary had found this place when they were only children, and it wasn't the most spacious area, or the warmest, but it was somewhere that was just for them. Clarissa sat on one of the cushions that sat on the blanket they had placed over the stone floor of the space, and Jonathon threw himself on the opposite cushion, placing his head in his hands. Clarissa didn't speak for a moment, and neither did Jonathon, both registering what had just happened.

"The wish." Clarissa whispered, not for fear of being heard, but out of pure disbelief.

"The wish." Jonathon repeated. He looked up, eyes moving to where Clarissa had been stricken, and she wiped away the blood that had begun to trickle down the side of her face. Jonathon flinched at the sight, and Clarissa knew that it was not because of being squeamish, but for the image of his younger sister being hurt. He didn't ask if she was ok. They both knew that nothing about this was ok. They had killed for their father before, had done his corrupt will countless times, and had more blood on their hands than they cared to acknowledge. But this… How could they let him do this? Take the most sacred shadowhunter wish. Neither of them were good people, Angel above knew that, but could they really stand back. They didn't have to speak it to know the question that lay between them.

"We have no choice." Jonathon stated, but his voice was shaky and she knew it was as much to convince himself as it was to convince her. She nodded, but still she hesitated.

"I'm assuming it's too late to run away?" She used a light humorous tone, but knew that they both longed it was a possibility. But it was too painful to acknowledge that.

"Where would we go? To the Lightworms?" Clarissa snorted, thinking of the young Shadowhunters they had often heard things about, but had yet to face in battle. From what she heard, they were self-obsessed arseholes. Her laugh faded, and she looked at Jonathon with sincerity.

"How are we going to do this?" He knew what she meant. How were they going to let their father commit this crime? All humour left his expression and his eyes filled with earnest.

"Together." He linked her pinky finger in his own, sealing their promise the way they had since they were children. "Always and forever."

The next morning, when Clarissa walked into the lobby, Jonathon and her father were already stood there, both decked in gear, and with a small satchel at her father's side. She didn't want to think about what was in it, and what those items meant. Instead, she locked eyes with her brother, letting that promise pass between them once more. _Always and forever. _He gave her a small smile, the most he would risk in front of their father, but she still tried for a smile back. Her brother was so handsome, his dark, reddish hair a contrast to her own bright red hair. He was dressed in his typical black gear, his beautiful blades trapped across his body, and she knew where each blade was, the same way he knew where all of her blades where. She had dressed in her usual tight gear, both her top and tight trousers black, but her real pride was her twin blades that she held in her palms, their hilts fitting into her palms like a key in a lock, the familiarity comforting. Valentine took her in with an approving glance, and gave her a nod.

"A portal, Clarissa. Now. To Lake Lynn." Clarissa didn't speak as she drew the rune that was like second nature to her, and a portal sprung up before them. As the three of them strode through the portal and towards Lake Lynn, Clarissa grasped Jonathon's wrist tightly with her hand. Always and forever, she assured herself. The one thing she had and loved in this world. Her brother.

It was nighttime in Idris, and the dark that surrounded the lake was only slightly relieved by the light from the stars above. Clarissa was thrust out of the portal, catching herself as she tumbled onto the grassy bank of the lake. It was harder to portal into Idris than it was anywhere else, especially when the extra wards were up. Letting her eyes adjust to the light, Clarissa looked over the dark reflective waters of Lake Lynn and the eerie stillness of the water. Somewhere across the bank, she heard Jonathon stand, and she turned her head to find him already staring at something else. Following his apprehensive gaze, Clarissa watched her father stride up the grassy knoll that hung out over the lake, his eyes not on them, but on the promise he felt waited within the waters. She couldn't see his face, but she could imagine the hunger and pride that would shine there. She should feel happy, this was what they'd worked for. Maybe, once he had what he wanted, he would let her go and she and Jonathon could be free. Still, as he drew the other mortal instruments out, and held them over the lake, Clarissa couldn't help herself.

"Father, wait. I don't think you should do this." Jonathon turned his head to her, and in the darkness, she pleaded with the Angel to do something, to stop him. But the Angel didn't, and as Valentine dropped the mortal instruments into the lake, a blinding light arose, causing Clarissa to cover her eyes, and gasp in amazement as the shore of the lake was illuminated. And as Clarissa turned her head back to the scene, to see her father utter the words that would doom so many, she heard the snap of a branch behind her. Both she and Jonathon spun around, drawing their weapons out in front of them. Facing them were three shadowhunters their own age, a girl and a boy with dark hair, and another boy with fair hair and golden eyes. As thankful as she was for the interruption, Clarissa couldn't help but snarl. The Lightwoods. Jonathon cast her a sideways glance and she knew its meaning without any words passing between them. _I'll take the siblings, you take golden-boy. _She held her swords out in front of her, taking her fighting stance as she eyed the boy, his appalled stare moving behind her to her father. Clarissa knew she should let them stop him. But that wasn't her job. Her job was to protect her father, and to protect her brother, and so, as she watched golden-boy's gaze stray from her, she pounced forwards. The sound of metal on metal echoed across the bay, and Clarissa lost herself in the fight. This was what she was good at, her way of escaping everything, and so she threw herself into the duel. Feign right, stab left, spin around. Clarissa could hear the sounds of battle from the other side of the bank, and as soon as she had finished with this one, she vowed to help her brother with the two others. With a renewed vigour, Clarissa used the move that Jonathon had taught her when she was only ten, and she swept her leg out, feeling it connect with his shins, and bringing him to his knees. Here it was, the killing blow, and Clarissa held her sword above her head, about to plunge it into golden-boy's chest, when she heard it. The most horrible sound in the whole world. She heard the sound of a sword somewhere else connecting with bone and blood and flash, and the gagging noise her brother made as the blade ran through him. Clarissa dropped her swords where she stood, forgetting about the boy, about everything but her brother, hurt. Whirling around, she met his gaze as the dark-haired girl pulled the sword from his chest, and he sank to his knees, blood pouring from the wound.

"Jonathon!" She screamed, the sound enough that the two siblings turned to face her, but she didn't see them as she lunged for her brother, falling to her knees beside his weak figure. Her stele was already in her hand, furiously drawing iratze after iratze on any skin she could find, until his bloody hand wrapped around her own. Brining her eyes to his, she could feel the life draining out of him as his blood pooled around them. "No. No!" She insisted with him. He couldn't leave her. Not now, not ever. Her eyes clouded with tears, and so did Jonathon's as he looked up at her, so much love in his gaze.

"Please, sister." He reached up, his thumb brushing the tears from her cheek, before moving to where her hair was tied up. He gently pulled the band from her hair, and it fell in waves around her face. He always had preferred her hair down. "I love you, Clary. Always and forever." She knew it was his goodbye, but how could she let him fade away. He was her Jonathon, her brother.

"No, you can't leave me. Please. Please!" And desperate as she was, Clarissa turned her head to where her father watched from the knoll, his face carefully blank. "Father! Father, please help him!" But Valentine didn't move, and beneath her hands, Clarissa felt the life leave her brother's body, as he died in his sister's arms. Clarissa screamed. She screamed with all the pain and heartbreak that rocked through her body. She screamed for her brother to return to her, to keep his promise. Always and forever. Always and forever. And as she felt the tip of the blade rest between her shoulder blades, Clarissa prayed for it to come down. Prayed to join her brother, to not have to suffer through this world without him. And so, in her last moments, Clarissa closed her eyes, and held onto her brother's body with everything that she was. And as she waited for death to greet her, she heard another yell.

"Jace, don't." She didn't know who it was speaking, or who Jace was, but she hated whoever it was. Let her be. Let her die. But the command in the voice had the sword lifted from her back, and she couldn't no longer feel death beckoning, though she prayed for it to return to her. To provide her with the bloody end she deserved. She hadn't saved him, hadn't protected him. And so she pleaded for the return of that sword. Instead, its pommel slammed into the back of her head, and black spots filled Clarissa's vision as she fell forwards onto her brother's body.

. . .

Jace didn't know what to think about Clarissa Morgenstern. After everything that had happened on that bank of Lake Lynn. They had been sent there, when the Clave had gotten wind of the Morgenstern plan and they had been sent to stop him. They had done that. And still, Jace felt haunted by that day. They had succeeded. That was what he had to tell himself. The only thing that he could tell himself that kept Clarissa Morgenstern's screams for her brother out of his head at night. It had been a week. A week since they had killed Jonathon, and killed Valentine, and delivered Clarissa Morgenstern to the Clave, where she was to await trial. Jace hadn't seen her since he had knocked her out. He had been ready to kill her, ready to end the Morgenstern line. Then Alec had intervened. He didn't know what his brother had seen in her that had made him save her, but Jace didn't question his parabatai. In the moment, at least. Since, he had asked Alec countless times what had made him inclined to spare her life. And Alec had said it was something he had seen in her, on that bank. Jace had to admit, she was an incredible fighter. If Izzy had killed Jonathon, hadn't distracted her, he would be dead now. And now, all the shadowhunters in the world were flocking to Idris for the trial of Clarissa Morgenstern, someone they had only heard stories about. About the children of Valentine, his soldiers and most loyal followers. And now, only one of them remained. Jonathon was dead, and moments later, Jace had run Valentine through with a blade, the only way to undo what he had done by summoning the Angel. So two Morgensterns were dead. And Jace couldn't help his eagerness to see what became of the other. After everything they had done, it would be death for sure.

Jace was sat in between Alec and Isabelle in the meeting. The Council hall was large enough to house the hundreds of shadowhunters that had come for this meeting, but the three young shadowhunters had been saved seats at the front of the Council hall, like a reward for defeating the great evil that was Valentine Morgenstern. And now, the hall was silent, sat waiting for the entertainment they were about to be provided with. After almost half an hour, the Consul took her place at the front of the hall, keeping her head high, and standing tall as she addressed them.

"Shadowhunters. Today marks a great day in our history. The threat that was Valentine Morgenstern and his children has been eliminated. And today, we have a decision to make. About the fate of Clarissa Morgenstern. Due to the delicate situation we are provided with, I ask that you remain silent as I conduct this trial. You are here to observe. I am here to judge." Giving a small nod to the guard stood beside the door that led to the dungeons, Jia Penhallow sat down in her seat, a solumn expression on her face. "And now, we will proceed."

Upon the words, the door to the dungeons opened, and through it, Clarissa Morgenstern was marched to the centre of the room, where she was forced to her knees before the Consul. Jace could not help but exclaim at her appearance. Her bright red hair that had shone under the light of the Angel was dull from her week underground, and it seemed no one had given her the opportunity to clean herself up. Or maybe she hadn't wanted to. She still wore her black gear, and her face was bloodied with the blood of her brother. But it was any of this that made Jace gasp. It was the hollowness of her eyes. It was as though she was a ghost, or a dead body, all of the emotions drained out of her, and left behind a shell of a person. She let her head drop, her hair falling around her face as she knelt before them all. It was as though the whole Council was holding their breath. And then Jia spoke.

"Clarissa Morgenstern, you are on trial because of your actions over the last 18 years, during which, you have carried out some of you father's more horrific deeds and wishes." Then, a man was called forwards, who read the list of Clarissa's crimes, and still her expression didn't change. No remorse, no anger. Just blank nothingness. "Do you admit your guilt to these actions?" Clarissa remained silent. "If you do not respond, I will take it that you are admitting being guilty of these actions." Still, Clarissa said nothing, and after a moment, Jia gave a nod, and the man stepped back. Jace was shaking his knee up and down as he watched. As the whole Consul watched. And the Consul began to ask questions. "Were you ever forced to do any of these things by your father? Did your father ever beat you? Did you ever have any contact with your mother? Did you and your brother ever try to run away?" All of these questions went unanswered, but the moment her brother was mentioned, Clarissa snapped her head up. Still her expression remained the same, but her head had moved to the Consul, the first response she had made this whole trial. The Consul paused, waiting for a further response from the girl, but she just remained where she was, looking at the Consul. Jia finally moved her head back to the list of questions before her, but as she broke eye contact, Clarissa spoke.

"Where is my brother?" She spoke with a quiet voice, but in the silence of the Council room it was heard. Jace couldn't help but think of the first time he had heard her speak, of the agony in her screams. Jia slowly moved her head up to face Clarissa, her eyes assessing the girl, before she responded.

"Both your brother and father were killed on the mission in which you were captured." Clarissa showed no emotion at the revelation of her father's death or the reminder of her brother's, instead just returning to her first position, her head hung. Still Jace heard her when she asked the question again.

"Where is my brother?" This time the Consul provided no response, instead turning to meet the gaze of the man stood beside her. She gave another one of those heavy nods, before turning back, not to face Clarissa but the other shadowhunters.

"We are about to reach a verdict, but first we would like to hear the testimony of Alexander Gideon Lightwood who was on the mission that led to the defeat of the Morgensterns." Jace whipped his head around to face his parabatai, but Alec paid him no heed, instead standing, his eyes on the Consul. Clarissa too lifted her head to face Alec, to see what he could have to say.

"Thank you, Consul. When we arrived at Lake Lynn, we watched as Valentine prepared to summon the angel, his children on the shore. Clarissa Morgenstern told her father not to do it." And with that, Alec sat back down. That was all that he needed to say. To inform the Council that Clarissa had not solely been on her father's side. Nodding to Alec, the Consul turned to the man next to her and they began to speak in hushed tones so they could not be heard by the other shadowhunters. Jace moved his head back to Clarissa, who had already dropped her gaze from Alec and was once again staring at the floor of the Council room. It was not from shame, Jace knew. Looking at the girl before them, and remembering her screams, Jace knew that she was broken. Finally, the Consul turned back to face the Council hall.

"By order of the Clave, Clarissa Morgernstern is not sentenced to death. Instead, she will return to the New York Institute, where she will live her life. She is free to come and go as she pleases, but her permanent place of residence will be the New York Insistute. She will be watched there by the three shadowhunters who captured her. That is all." And with that, the Consul stood from her seat and stalked from the room, not giving Clarissa a backwards glance. Jace, Alec and Izzy sat stunned in their seats, waiting for someone to come and tell them a mistake had been made. Instead, talking and protestations broke out around them, and a guard walked over to the girl who sat in the middle of the room, her gaze fixed on the door the Consul had just exited from. The guard roughly grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet, and the gazes of Alec, Izzy and Jace followed her out of the room. And just before she was pulled into the darkness of the dungeons, she turned her head to face the three people who she would live with for the rest of her life, and the three people who had just taken her family from her, and Jace saw the first emotion in her eyes since she had walked into the room. Hatred.

The three siblings stood in front of the Consul, each giving their own protestations, as she sat, calmly watching them. Their voices were panicked, overlapping each other as they tried to understand the Consul's motives. After a minute, Jia held up a hand wearily, to silence them. She leaned back in the plush chair that sat behind her large desk and her eyes flicked between the three shadowhunters. Finally, she spoke.

"One of you." They knew what she meant and Jcae burst out before either of his siblings had a chance to.

"Clarissa Morgenstern is a monster who has done unquestionably awful things for her father. And you are letting her wander free." Izzy grabbed his wrist and squeezed, gesturing that he should calm down. Jace looked at her quickly, before opening his mouth to speak again, but the Consul jumped in first.

"Not free. Supervised. By you." This time it was Izzy who jumped in.

"But why us? And why should her only punishment be supervision. She could be supervised in the Guard." Jia simply raised her eyebrows at the passion with which Isabelle spoke, and looked between the three of them again.

"Are you questioning my judgement?" Ever the diplomat, Alec answered calmly.

"Of course not, Consul. We are simply curious about your thoughts, as we feel it may help us to better complete the task you have given us." Jace nearly raised his eyebrows at that, but figured it was better to agree that to kick off again. Jia stood now, and walked around her desk, leaning on the back of it.

"Alright then." She looked between them, and Jace couldn't help but feel uncomfortable under the heavy gaze, as though he was being assessed for his worthiness. "Clarissa Morgenstern could be an incredible shadowhunter. The best we've ever had. She can fight with immense skill, and as for her rune drawing ability…We couldn't throw that away by issuing a death sentence. And as for being punished, from what you told me about what happened by Lake Lynn, Clarissa Morgenstern has been punished in many ways already." They averted their gazes, and the screams of the red headed girl as she begged for death, played through all of their heads. Clasping her hands in front of her, Jia spoke again, her tone lighter than before. "If that is satisfactory for you all then I suggest you make preparations. You will be leaving for the New York Institute in half and hour, with Clarissa Morgenstern." And with that, they were dismissed.

As they walked into the dungeons, Jace, Isabelle and Alec were met with the least pleasant place they could imagine. The light was dim, and Jace was sure he could hear spiders crawling along the damp walls. He tried to look past it all. She deserved this. All of it. And more for what she was doing. He should have killed her when he had the chance. He couldn't help the thought as it passed through his head, but it was true. She was a monster. Worse than a monster. What she and her brother had done…They had killed demons and downworlders alike, along with any shadowhunters that had the misfortune of getting in their way. Despite this, Jace couldn't help but pity anyone who had to spend time that was the dismal dungeons beneath the Council room. As they approached the cell, there was only a single guard outside, and he was reclined on a chair, barely even watching the girl in the cell. Jace would have thought there would have been better security for such a girl. And yet, she had no weapons and no stele, and didn't seem to be moving, simply kneeling in the middle of the cell, her head down the way it had been in the Council room. She didn't look up as Alec ordered the guard to open the cell. She didn't resist either, as Alec told her to follow them upstairs, where a warlock was waiting to draw them a portal. She simply rose to her feet, careful not to look at or touch any of them and followed Alec and Izzy out of the dungeons, with Jace close behind her, his sword drawn. She may be free, technically, but he wasn't taking any chances. The Consul was waiting to see them off, but Clarissa didn't look at her either, instead keeping her eyes on the floor. And as they stepped through the portal she didn't struggle. She just followed. Like a puppet, without emotion or life or heart.

When they stepped from the portal and into the lobby of the New York Institute, Jace was thankful to find it empty. The Consul had informed them upon departing that it would be, that for the first few weeks, it would be best if Clarissa was not bombarded with people, and that the shadowhunters had been relocated in other areas of New York for a short time. Still, it was strange to see it so isolated. For a moment, the group stood in silence, Clarissa not bothering to speak, and the others trying to figure out what to say. What could they possibly say? Finally, Isabelle broke the ice, trying for a light tone.

"I guess we should make introductions." At that, Clarissa lifted her head, and those hauntingly hollow eyes scanned over each of them, before she replied.

"Why bother?" Her voice was without emotion or feeling. Instead she just spoke in that quiet strong voice she had used in the Council room, as though the voice didn't belong to her at all. "You know who I am, because they read it at the Council meeting, and you are the people who killed by brother. What more is there to know? May I be shown to the room where I am to sleep?" She didn't move, waiting for one of them to lead her to her room, and for a moment they all stood in silence, shocked at the blunt truth she had just stated. After a moment, Alec recovered and silently walked in the direction of the direction of the living quarters in the institute. Jace followed, but Isabelle remained frozen in the lobby, looking like she had just been hit in the face. Clarissa didn't speak again as they approached the room, and Jace realised that Alec was not leading her to where most of the shadowhunters stayed in the institute, but into a more private and isolated wing. Jace didn't know if it was a gift or a punishment. As they stopped, Alec pushed open the door to the room and Clarissa stepped inside, moving silently like a ghost, barely looking at the room around her. Just as Jace and Alec made to leave though, she looked up, meeting Alec's gaze and stopping him.

"You told Jace not to kill me." It was not a question but Alec gave a short nod anyway. Clarissa dropped his gaze once more, to the ground as though she was looking at someone or something there. When she spoke again, it was so quiet that Jace barely heard her. "I wish you hadn't."

Twenty minutes later, Jace, Isabelle and Alec were in the head of the Institute's office. Jace was lounged on the couch, whilst Izzy was draped over an armchair, biting her lip, and Alec was stood by the fireplace, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"What are we going to do?" Jace asked from where he lay, looking to his siblings. Izzy just averted her eyes to the fireplace, and Alec turned towards him.

"What do you mean? We're going to do as the Consul has ordered. We are going to supervise her."

"But what does that entail?" Izzy spoke out, swinging her feet around so she was sat normally in the armchair normally, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Well, from what the Consul said, it seems like she wants Clarissa she be rehabilitated, and to become part of the Clave again. For that to happen, we need to help her. We need to learn about her, and talk to her, and train her."

"Yes, but to do any of those things, we need to know things about her." Jace grumbled from where he lay, looking up at Alec as he spoke. "And I don't know if you've noticed, but she's not exactly chatty."

"That's why I've called in back up. Magnus is on his way here." Izzy's brow lowered in confusion and Jace was about to protest when the door opened and Magnus Bane walked in, dressed in his usual grandeur.

He grinned seeing Alec and walked over, planting a kiss on his boyfriend.

"I trust your week in Idris was positively boring, darling." He frowned as he took in the grim expressions of those in the room. "Angel above, what happened?" Alec gave his siblings that told them to leave the talking to him.

"Magnus, we need you to tell us what you know about Valentine Morgenstern." Magnus flinched at the name, and Jace moved his legs to allow the warlock to sink onto the couch. He couldn't help but be shocked; he could count the amount of times he had seen Magnus Bane flinch on one hand despite all the time they had known each other. When Magnus spoke again, his voice was more solemn.

"Valentine is one of the cruellest and most disgustingly horrible people I have ever had the misfortune to meet. He treats people like his dolls, and anyone with demon blood like scum. It was eleven years ago that we first met. Somehow, Valentine had drugged me at a party I was attending and brought me to his manor. The dungeons there were surprisingly well warded. I was there for months before I managed to escape. It was the last time I ever saw him and I can honestly tell you that for what he put me through, if I ever saw him again, he would die very very slowly." The sincerity in his voice had shocked expressions on all three of the shadowhunters, but after a moment, he seemed to shake away his seriousness. Smiling slightly. "But why, Alexander?"

"When we were in Idris, we caught him summoning the Angel. We killed him. He's dead, Magnus."

"Thank the Angel. And well done, all of you." His expression became confused once more, but Alec kept speaking before he could ask.

"But that's not all that happened. His children were at the Lake with him." Magnus' expression blanched at the mention of the children, and Jace wondered what they could have done to make him so scared of them. "We fought them to get to Valentine. We killed Jonathon, and captured Clarissa. We brought Clarissa before the Clave and the Consul came to a decision. She is going to live in the New York Institute and it is our job to supervise her time here, so that she can become a shadowhunter that is beneficial to the Clave." Magnus no longer looked at any of them, his eyes trained on the floor.

"Clarissa is here? And Jonathon is dead? He was killed in front of her?" Alec gave a small nod, confused by the anger in his voice. What had the girl done to him? Magnus stood from his seat walking over to the desk and running a hand over his face, keeping his back to them.

"That's why we asked you about Valentine. We need to learn about her." Magnus spun on them, his face the mask of fury, at all of them.

"So you ask about her father? I would have thought that you would know better. If you wanted to know about Clarissa Morgenstern then I could have told you about Clarissa Morgenstern. That child is not her father!"

"But…" Isabelle started to speak, but Magnus cut her off, his body shaking slightly with anger, partly at them, but partly at the situation.

"No! That child is not her father." He took a deep shaky breath, as he tried to calm himself, and Alec approached cautiously as Magnus rested on the edge of the desk with his head down.

"Magnus, what happened? How do you know her?" When Magnus looked up towards them again, his eyes were calmer.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you. All of you." Jace waited anxiously for whatever horrific truth Magnus was about to reveal about what Jonathon and Clarissa had done to him. What Magnus said instead had them all shocked. "Clarissa Morgenstern is the reason that I'm alive today."

He didn't give them time to ask questions as he told his story. His story of how he was captured and held in Valentine's dungeon for months. How, after Valentine had whipped him for hours, the cruel man had finally left him to bleed out in the dungeons. And about the little girl with the red hair who had followed his screams down into the dungeon, and had slipped into his cell. She had healed him as well as she could, that seven-year-old girl, who was sad to see the warlock bleeding and hurting, and whilst Magnus was not able to leave, he could move again without blinding pain shooting through his spine. She had saved him. And after that, she had sneaked down to speak to him every day. She healed him sometimes, when he had been hurt, and other times she just spoke to him. She spoke of her brother, who she loved, and her father, who scared her. She spoke of the drawings she liked to do of the lake outside the house, and all the doodles in her room. She spoke of the training she was doing and the missions her father took her on. How much she hated them. Mostly though she talked about happy things, and liked to listen to his stories about shadowhunters he had met through the years. They had been halfway through a tale about a shadowhunter turned silent brother, and his dark haired parabatai, and his warlock fiancé, when her father had found them. He had dragged Clarissa from the cell, and she did not protest as he screamed at her outside the cell, so Magnus could see it all. She had stood and taken it, like it was the most normal thing in the world. She had barely responded at all, until her father had said the thing that caused her to break.

"You know what your punishment will be for this." Her eyes had filled with tears, and as her father turned to leave, she had grabbed his arm.

"No, father, please. Punish me. Punish me." Her father had shaken off her small grip and snarled in her face.

"I am punishing you. This is because of you Clarissa." After that Valentine had stalked away, and Clarissa had followed, still begging. Magnus had not understood until that evening, when the dungeons were filled with screams, and this time they were not his own. They were not Clarissa's either. From the next cell, the screams of a young boy had echoed off the walls, and Magnus could make out the faint cries of another child nearby. Long after the screams had stopped and the other cell had been vacated, the quiet cries continued. Then, in the middle of the night, young Clarissa's face had appeared at the door of his cell, tear streaked. Magnus had begged her to let him help, had asked what had happened. She had simply stated that it was better than whipping her, because watching her brother hurt, hurt more. She had steeled her face into one of bravery and had thrown him a key.

"I can't come and see you anymore. Go and never look back. Please." Magnus had protested but she had left quickly and with no more words than that. And so he had left. And he had begged the Clave to listen to him. To do something. To help her. And he had tried to return for her and the boy. But he knew not where the manor was and no matter how hard he had searched for the lost children, he had never found them.

When he finished his story, Alec's face was ashen, and Jace's jaw was tight, and silent tears ran down both Izzy and Mangus' faces. "So no, she is nothing like her father. But she's here?" Alec gave a shocked nod, and Magnus let out a deep breath. That was when they heard the smash. Magnus was already gone, following Jace, who was sprinting in the direction of her room. As they arrived, Jace shouldered open the door and what they saw broke Magnus' heart. They gathered in the doorway, four pairs of eyes watching Clarissa Morgenstern holding a large shard of broken mirror towards her chest. Her head whipped up, and her hands were shaking. Just as she made to plunge the shard into her chest though, Magnus spoke in a quiet, disbelieving voice. "Clary?" He stepped forwards into the room and something changed in her expression as she took him in.

"Magnus? Magnus, I…" She looked between his heartbroken expression and the shard of glass still in her hands. She dropped it, stepping away from the broken glass, and when she spoke again, they didn't know if it was to herself or to Magnus. "I just can't. It hurt so much. I can't…I can't. He's dead." She turned her gaze back to Magnus, her eyes frantic as she stepped towards him. "Jonathon's dead. He's dead Magnus."

"I know, biscuit. I know." She shook her head, trying to banish the thought from her mind, but as her eyes moved to where Jace, Izzy and Alec stood, her expression guttered.

"They killed him." Her voice was quiet. "They killed him." She told Magnus, trying to get him to understand, her voice rising, frantic, panicked. "They killed him. My brother. They killed him!" Tears streamed down her face now, and she staggered forwards a step, before she lunged. Magnus arms wrapped around her writhing body as struggled, all the time screaming. "They killed him! They killed him!" Alec stepped back and the three siblings walked away from the doorway, but not fast enough to see Clarissa stop struggling and sink to the floor, still held by Magnus as she sobbed. He stroked her hair and whispered words of comfort, because what could he really do except that. This was Clary, the Clary he had looked for for the last ten years, and he couldn't help her. She was already out, but she was broken.


	2. Chapter 2

**I love this story. I love writing it and exploring the characters and the consequences of their actions. I actually wrote this chapter so long ago, but I kept forgetting to post it, or when I remembered, i worried people wouldn't like it. Anyway, here it is and I hope you enjoy it. Sorry for the wait, but please review to let me know what you think. Thanks :)**

**. . .**

Magnus could hardly breathe as he held Clarissa, stroking her hair softly as she shook violently in his arms, sobs racking through her. What had happened to her these past years? And now, she screamed at the man Magnus loved and his family, hatred glowing in her gaze, and he could do nothing to comfort her, or explain their innocence, because they had killed her brother. Magnus held no blame with them; for the past ten years, the Clave had been ordering the capture and death of all three Morgensterns, and they had simply done as instructed. How were they to know the dynamic between the siblings and their father? So no, he held no blame with the Lightwoods. And still, he could not claim their innocence to the crime Clarissa accused them of. It was the truth. And it was the truth that had broken her. Around half an hour after the Lightwoods had left, Clarissa had fallen asleep in Magnus' arms, her cheeks tear-streaked and her eyes red. As he had lifted her and carefully placed her on the bed, pulling off the boots she wore and placing the blanket over her, he noticed that she was still wearing the clothes from when she had been captured. They were dusty and dirty from her week in the dungeon and crusted with blood. Her face was smudged with dirt, and blood stuck beneath her fingernails, and even as she slept, with her peaceful expression, the suffering she had endured marked every part of her body. Not just the blood and grime on her, but the way she slept, curled up, protecting herself, and arm out and ready to grab a weapon to defend herself. Even her once bright hair was dulled by her week of captivity and Magnus wanted to cry as he looked down at her, the girl he had failed to protect and save.

After a few hours, Magnus moved from Clarissa's bedside, leaving her to catch up on the sleep she missed these past nights, and going to find Alec in his office. As he walked in, he found Alec sat at his desk, papers spread before him, but he wasn't looking at any of them, instead looking troubled as he focussed on the wall opposite.

"Alexander." Alec's head snapped up, and some relief came into his eyes as he saw Magnus, but he still looked worn and concerned, his eyes heavy. He stood, coming to the other side of the desk, where Magnus stood.

"How is she?" It was worry in his voice, and Magnus knew that Alec was confused. He had been told so many things by the Clave that it made it difficult to question the truth of all of them. And now he was having to face the consequences of those stories he had been told and the loss brought to the girl he now had to look after.

"Asleep. She's asleep." That was all Magnus could really say, because who knew what was going on in the head of that girl. Alec was still taught as a bowstring, as he stepped towards Magnus, taking his hands in his own.

"And how are you?" Magnus tried to keep his voice from shaking, and he lowered his eyes, unable to meet Alec's gaze.

"I failed them." He barely reached the end of the sentence before he choked off into a sob, and buried his head in Alec's chest as he cried. Alec wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, holding him up and holding on, with nothing to say to make this any better. And so he just stayed there, trying not to think about the fact that one of the people who Magnus claimed to have failed and now cried for, had been killed by him and his sister.

Clarissa was pulled from her sleep by nightmares, that sound of the blade plunging through Jon's chest ringing in her ears. His last words to her. She breathed deeply, head in her hands, sweating and her hands shaking. One breath after the other, she desperately tried not to look at the mirror that no longer contained any glass, Magnus having vanished all of the shards that had covered the floor. She had to keep breathing, had to push away the anger and the drowning agony that followed her, even to unconsciousness. She and Jonathon had held onto their dream of getting out, of finding refuge somewhere else, and escaping the torture that Valentine had inflicted on them. And she had finally done it. Valentine was dead and she was out. But Jonathon was gone, was dead, and she had escaped alone. For him, she had to hold on to this dream they had had, and she had to make the best of it. This life, though, this unfamiliar room and institute full of the people who had taken away the one she had loved the most. This was a new kind of torture. And it was worse. It was always going to be worse without him.

Standing from the bed, Clarissa moved to the window, that looked out over the city. She was in New York. She was out. And she was going to live, for him. Looking at the skyline, Clarissa remembered the time she and Jonathon had been sent to New York on a mission. They had been sent to gather intel on the wards around Lake Lynn, and to infiltrate the institute the best way they could. They had stayed in the city though, had taken advantage of their short time away, and of the freedom they were allowed. They had only been here for two weeks, but it was some of the best times that Clarissa remembered in her whole life. It was light outside, the sun high in the sky, probably around noon. She wanted nothing less than to leave this room and to be faced with all those people and all those questions. She knew what they were going to do, what the clave wanted them to do. They were going to accustom her to a life in the institute, and that meant interrogation about her life before. About everything. Plus, there would be training. She had never trained with anyone but Jonathon, and now she had to train with the people who had killed him. She hated them. Maybe she shouldn't. They were acting on orders, as she had done countless times before. They were stopping Valentine, which she knew was the right thing to do. And she still; hated them. How could she not? They had killed the most important person in her life.

She heard voices outside the door, hushed whisperings, and she grabbed for her stele so she could hear what they were saying. That was the first time she realised they had taken her stele. Her swords would be gone as well. She should have expected it, but she hadn't even bothered to check. She had hardly moved. She didn't want to speak to them. She would have to at some point, but not now. Magnus' voice approached, telling the other people outside to disperse, and the voices went away. It was hard to believe he was here. Magnus was practically a dream to Clarissa. Sometimes, she had told herself that he had been part of her imagination. He was with them for such a short time, and she had been so young, but she still remembered cleaning his wounds, the way she had learned to after Jonathon had almost bled to death after one of Valentine's whippings. And she remembered his stories. The stories of a world of downworlders who were good, shadowhunters who were noble and great adventures he had had. It was one of the short comforts she had had in her life. She had tried to remember them and tell them to Jonathon, but she couldn't do his tales justice. Then he was gone, and she knew it was for the best. More than once, she had dreamed that he had come back for her and Jonathon. That he would take them on great adventures where they didn't have to kill anyone and they would be happy and safe, finally. But they were only dreams, and she had known they were impossible. That she would never see him again. And now she had. He was here, here with the people who had killed her family and taken away her only happiness in the world. The people she was trapped with for the rest of her life. And the people she would have to speak to. There were some things she needed to sort out.

Clarissa was still dressed in her dusty clothes that she had been wearing for the past week, and became acutely aware of this as she moved through the seemingly pristine institute, with its glass tables and smooth cobblestones. It was beautiful and open and the kind of place she had always dreamed about living when she and Jonathon had imagined their possible escape. Now, it felt like just as much of a prison to her as the cell she had stayed in in Idris. As she moved into the empty main foyer of the institute, she glanced at the large tables with advanced technology surrounding them. It seemed that the New York institute was a busy place. She could hardly stand the thought of living with the three people already here, let alone a whole host of shadowhunters goggling her for her whole life. She would always be Valentine's daughter. She moved quickly past the foyer, searching for someone she could speak to. There were things to sort out, things she needed to do before anything else. So, as much as the thought of speaking to any of the people here made her sick, she would do it. She would have to learn to live with them at some point anyway. As she walked past a room with a slightly larger oak door than all the others, Clarissa paused, hearing voices coming from inside. She tapped softly on the door before pushing it open.

When Clarissa stepped into the office, she was met with two people. Magnus cast her a reassuring glance, as though waiting for her to tip over the edge again, whilst the other boy, a boy with dark hair, who she had identified as Alexander Lightwood, since her hearing, stared at her, waiting. Waiting as though she were not unusual at all, but just another shadowhunter requiring his help. Magnus stepped forwards, offering a tight smile.

"I was worried, biscuit. You slept for almost two days." She just nodded. She knew she would have to speak to him, about everything that had happened, but she couldn't talk it through, not now. She didn't think she was even capable of getting the words out. Instead, she turned her head to Alexander.

"I want to see my brother." Alexander kept his cool gaze steady as he stared at Clarissa, and she could see the answer in his eyes before he opened his mouth. When he did, he spoke with the voice of a leader, a voice of a calm and collected individual. Clarissa knew she did not sound that way. She sounded the way her father had trained her to sound around people she didn't trust; cold and closed off.

"Your brother and father were buried just outside of Idris a few days after your capture." It was what she had expected, and so she did not react.

"Were they buried together?" She prayed to the angel that they weren't. Jonathon deserved better than to be buried beside a monster such as that. He deserved so much better. He deserved to live.

"Yes, side-by-side." Alexander delivered the news as though it was what she would have wanted, and Clarissa fought the urge to glance to Magnus. What did he remember about the stories she had told him? What did he remember about her? She wanted to move on, to return to her room and curl into herself, but she needed to know.

"Did anyone attend?" She didn't care who it was. A Clave official, one of the Lightwoods, anyone.

"No. There was no one there." She wanted to curl into herself, to crumple to the floor and break down again, but she couldn't do that, not here, in front of him. She turned to walk from the room, but Alexander spoke again, his words hurried, as though he was reluctant to say them. As though he was trying to amend for something. "The Clave thought it was better, more respectful, you see, than screaming mobs." Clarissa nodded, understanding. It was true, that she would not have wished the cries of their victims to have reached Jonathon's grave. He had never had peace, not really, and so he deserved it now at least. Still, she couldn't shake the weight of the truth on her soul. She should have been there, for the only person who had ever been there for her, she should have been there. But she wasn't. And she was going to figure out a way to live with that. The only thing she knew was that she couldn't go back to that room and curl up with her own thoughts and nightmares the only things to pass her time. She needed to do something. She needed to fight.

"Where are my swords?" She asked abruptly, and Alexander gave her a cautious glance. She knew that he didn't want to arm her, that he didn't trust her. Then again, they were the ones who had killed the only person who had ever loved her, so maybe they should re-evaluate the trust between them. She saw his eyes move to Magnus, looking for an answer to some question, but Clarissa kept her steely gaze on Alexander, not bothering to see Magnus' response. Alexander's eyes returned to hers once more and he stood, walking behind his desk, and unlocking one of the large draws. Pulling it open, he looked inside a moment before drawing out her twin blades. Clarissa's breath hitched in her throat at the sight of them, the only things she really had left of her life, but Alexander seemed to weigh them up in his hands, admiring the blades. She wished he would just hand them over. Instead, he returned his gaze to hers.

"I shall place them in the weapons room. Should you want to train, you can find them there. After training, they must be returned." She understood. She was the enemy, a killer. She was not t be trusted. And so she just nodded. Nodded and left.

Walking down the hallway, Clarissa examined the hangings on the walls. There were runes, and shadowhunters and slain demons, all depicted beautifully in large paintings and tapestries. There was even a tapestry of three young shadowhunters, two with dark hair and one with blond, and Clarissa flashed back to the night she had seen them on that beach. Standing together, she could see it the same way then that she did not in the cloth; they were a formidable team. She had had that once. Clarissa didn't know where she was going, as she wandered aimlessly through the institute, but looking down these corridors, it pained her to imagine how different her life could have been. Growing up in a place like this, a family with missions full of honour. Jonathon would have loved it. She could imagine a painting of the two of them up on the wall here, right next to the Lightworms, and she smiled a broken smile at the thought of how he might have puffed up with pride every time he walked past it. It hurt too much. She wanted to scream. To rip this whole place apart with her bare hands, simply for who wasn't there. Who wasn't sharing this with her. As she turned another corner, she found the grand set of double doors, large and with intricate patterns carved in the wood. Was she locked in this place? Could she leave? Moving gingerly towards the door, she pushed it slightly, and felt it give beneath her hands. Shoving it open, Clarissa stepped out onto the large stone steps, and she breathed.


End file.
